iBones
by burninganchors
Summary: A collection of songfics based on - what else? - Bones. All different charries; all different genres; all different ratings; all stuffed with lyrics; all for your viewing and listening pleasure.
1. Chapter 1

Well, it's a new fanfic(s), just for you!

And there you are, yelling at me because I haven't finished the other one. Go look at the author's note there, and you'll see why. I have an alibi. (grins)

Anyway, I got this idea while - what else? - listening to my iPod on afore-mentioned trip/alibi. For your viewing pleasure - and listening pleasure - I take songs that inexplicably remind me of the wonderful phenomenon that is Bones, and destroy them with fluffy/angsty/dramatic/etc. fanfic. Yay, everybody's happy. Especially since all I request out of potential reviewers are song requests and a little bit of good, healthy concrit (mommy says it's good for me).

All different categories, all different ratings (kids, look out!), all different charries, all filled with song lyrics - although some may be more stuffed with words than lyrics, depending on how carried away I get...

So, there's your general info. Now on with the songfics! :D

_MM_


	2. Go Ahead by Fireflight

Okay, well, some general information - my first dip into the world of smut, and lemme tell you, I was as red as Brennan's hair in Season One the whole time I was writing this. I'm really, really afraid to post this, but, well, here goes nothing. Concrit is definitely appreciated. :)

* * *

**SONG: **"Go Ahead"  
**ARTIST: **"Fireflight"  
**RATING:** M  
**PAIRING: **Booth/Brennan  
**WORD COUNT: **3029

_put your headphones in and enjoy our next selection  
..._

* * *

The rain is relentless, driving. Like bullets it streams upon her small balcony, little puddles forming in the ridges and valleys of the dull concrete. The white slab is stained by the liquid and blooms dark in contrast, the pool spreading with the swiftness of a disease. Soon it is spilling over the edge, falling onto the dark street below, even as torrents continue to rage about it.

She closes the curtains, abruptly cutting off her view of the churning skies, but it doesn't help the whispering voices confirming everything she fears: she knows she is like the rain outside that crashes slowly but surely into oblivion with all its brethren. The only difference is...she is alone. Falling. Failing. Auburn locks swirl about her head as it is shaken in contempt of the emotions blazing through her body, but it doesn't help to erase those thoughts, which always lurk in that rational, hyper-aware intellect of hers.

Coming to sit down upon the sofa, she clasps her hands together. Fighting to restrain them from doing something, simultaneously searching for something to do. She looks around the room, but doesn't really see anything. Not, at least, until her gaze lands upon the cell phone she hasn't touched since...yesterday...

_Yesterday I heard your voice  
__Whispering through all the noise  
I pretended I couldn't hear you_

It starts vibrating on the table, and she vaguely recalls a colloquialism she probably wouldn't say right anyway. He'd laugh at her, then explain it in that...that, way of his. Well, now he'd just be mad at her, she supposes. The thought sparks a brief fit of fury, and she lets her annoyance fill her intonation as she snaps into the phone, "What do you want, Booth?"

"Hello to you, too," she hears him laugh, and the rumble warms her, even when she wants to be so very cold.

Her voice retains its frost. "I'm afraid I'm very busy, I don't have time to talk."

"Then I bet you haven't had time to eat," her partner chides her, and fearfully her mind weaves images of him at her door with a bag full of Thai. And, of course, by the time she is ready to refute his statement he's already hung up, with promises to do exactly what she anticipated. The screen throws brilliant light over her features, giving them a ghostly, pallid hue, some of which can be attributed to her ensuing dread. When the phone's display goes dark, she is startled into motion. Her body finds itself in the bathroom, hands that don't seem like her own half-heartedly pulling and glossing and trying to shape something out of the mess she has become. People thought the world-renowned Dr. Brennan was composed and seamless, but staring her in the face was her true identity; a woman frazzled and at the end of her rope, devoid of a mask and cosmetics to hide the shambles.

She wonders if he'd love her this way, too, before surrendering defeat and fleeing the bathroom, leaving her thoughts far, far behind.

His fantastic timing still amazes her, even after four-almost-five years of partnership. The doorbell splits the silence of her apartment like a knife, and suddenly it all comes down to that one moment. If she runs out the back, down the fire stairwell, she could get away before he had time to break in, she reasons. She has a number of friends she could stay with, and she reminds herself that those of the opposite gender would be more than willing. Hell, she could probably find friends that wouldn't tell a soul where she was, even under oath.

If.

The door is opening, and her hand is on the knob, and then his face is there, the tentative smile on his jaw so unlike the scintillating one she is accustomed to. She can't read his eyes, not that she ever could, but at least she can tell that he's hiding something. She has the sudden feeling she knows what he's hiding, but she could never rely on her gut, either. That was always his thing.

"Hey, Bones."

The simple nickname nearly has her in tears, and it frightens her. Composure kept, she stares him down at the threshold a few seconds longer before letting him pass by. He saunters through the door and goes right into her kitchen, dumping the food on the table before searching her fridge for some beer. It makes her uncomfortable how comfortable he is in her house. As she hears the clink of two bottles rubbing together, she finds herself sitting, simply staring at the food and looking anywhere but at his face, even as he sits down across from her.

Like in one of those horribly unrealistic romantic comedies Angela raves about, the clock's ticking seems to drown out any other sound. Her senses are extremely alert, she reasons, but even her logic can't help her. Him, sitting across from the table, just watching, concerned...it's killing her. Because now she knows. She's suffocating, under the weight of what she knows about him, about her, about them. Knowledge has finally found a way to betray her. _Tick, tock, tick, tock. _She wants to say something, anything, about the horrible, terrible mistake this all is, but she can't move. Sinking into a grave of silence and fear. His voice manages to break through, digging her out with a sudden forcefulness, and she realizes that he _knows. _Really, really _knows._

_But you kept on pursuing me  
__And you began to move in me  
And I just couldn't hide any more_

The Mee Krob is getting cold, but neither one of them make a move to touch it. Even the beers he's cracked open are perspiring on the table. She knows he's waiting for her to say something, and that it's going to be her who becomes the deciding factor. Yesterday he handed her the truth, now she just has to take it. She inhales, and then it's as if a dam has broken, and instead of a river, words are streaming from her lips.

"I'm sorry, Booth. You...you told me what you wanted, how you felt. And I ran. I...I was scared, I didn't know...I couldn't face you. But now..."

She gestures helplessly, and now she's begging him with her eyes to understand what she can't vocalize. After a moment of thought, he pulls her up from the table with him, placing her fisted hands upon his chest and holding them there by her wrists. His breath stirs strings of hair by her face, and she realizes how close they are. If not for his solid presence, her knees might give way as she sees an awakened desire gathering in his eyes, and feels an answering heat that she has kept dormant for far, far too long.

"Angela was right."

This quietly spoken thought, the least expected, startles her. Their bodies are close now, and she finds she has to look up in question. "What?"

A laugh travels into the open. "You connect too much. You know what you feel. So just..." his hands separate, one cupping her neck, the other finding a handle on her waist. His fingers dance across her skin, whispering at her nape, and a shiver starts along her spine. Her lashes drift to partially cover her eyes in anticipation as his face steals closer, stubble grazing her cheek as he leans to whisper a closing statement within her ear. "...feel."

And feel she does. All those bottled emotions, hidden in the recesses of thought, are exposed. A scalding radiance pries them from their hideaways, forcing them to be what they are in the presence of the man who has to methodically demolished her every wall; destroyed her every notion that _this_ could be wrong. And she is...unhinged.

_I won't fight you  
__Go ahead!  
Take what you want to  
Take what you need to  
Don't let me hold you back_

Her neck rotates, and suddenly their lips are attacking one another, and she tastes a familiar, metallic flavor amongst the sudden aromas of sweat and passion. It is no sweet coalescence, but a hard clash as enamel is scraped away and tongues battle for dominance behind lips already swollen and bloody and _desperate_. She finds that he needs this just as much as she does, if not more. For so long - too long, he would probably argue later - they have not done anything about this, and perhaps he has realized it, too. How could she have been so blind?

But, well, maybe she wasn't. Not really, anyway...

His fingers twist atop her scalp, bringing her head closer as he dives for her throat, teeth nipping at her skin, moisture clamoring under his ministrations. She shivers; moans. The sounds makes him breathless, and he repeats the gesture, traveling slowly around the exposed skin near her collarbone. He smiles against her skin upon thinking about whatever jargon she would lecture him with after naming it so simply. But now, she is speechless, and he does not have to worry about destroying this moment, still so precarious, with something so...Bones.

Ahh, but this moment _is _Bones. He and Bones. Together.

Momentarily, he is shocked into stillness, and she whimpers in protest, fingers alternating between tracing mindless patterns across his shoulders and gently clawing in slight confusion. For him, yesterday had been a great burden lifted - finally, his feelings were there, right out in the open, plain as day. But then another load had fallen upon his shoulders as she'd left him, and once again everything had seemed to impossible. But now, it is all right, and he wonders how this moment could possibly be happening with a wonder he'd never experienced. For her, she knows that now that they're here, it isn't something to exclaim over - they have more important things to take care of.

"Booth, please," she whispers, the sound close to his ear, accompanying the chafe of lips against his cheek. Again, he is startled into movement; now his hands encircle her, trying to carry her away. But she is unwilling to leave him, and her legs wrap around his waist. Adapting, his hands grope her ass, holding her firmly to his chest. He can feel her nipples hardening against him, and he groans into the fierce kiss she has once again drawn him into.

Stumbling their way onto the bed, sheets still in chaos from her failed attempts at sleep as they are tousled even further, the duo pauses for another moment, both thinking the same thoughts as their breaths intermingle in a space too impossibly small to be shared. _What is this? Do I want it? Can I take it? Is this finally it? What comes after? What comes now? _

Slowly, her trembling hand reaches out and caresses his cheek. "Booth."

_Go ahead!  
__Do what you have to  
Cuz I want to know you!  
Don't let me hold you back _

The one word is all he needs.

Again he descends, and as he kisses down the gleaming column of her pale throat he comes into contact with fabric. A feral growl rumbles through his chest, and he practically rips it off with his teeth - as his hands are shaking too much to even work the buttons lining the blouse. To his surprise and enormous pleasure, she is bare underneath, and already straining for him. She sits up slightly, shrugging the garment from her shoulders, a newfound thrill in her dilated pupils as he pushes her back to sink into the pillows. His nose tickles the hollow between her breasts, and she urges him with whimpers to move either left or right - whatever he fancies; she won't be picky. Lucky for her, his hands are as good as his mouth, and soon she is practically melting into the soft cotton of her blankets. Everywhere his lips and tongue touch, telling spots mark her as his, a lingering reminder of what they're sharing. It doesn't bother her that suddenly she is even viewing herself as property - if only so she can be owned by him and him alone. Whatever he wants, he will get. Whatever he needs, she will give. _"Ohh!" _Especially when he does _that._

Soon it becomes unbearable, this ravishing of her body, and her breathless sighs of encouragement grow frustrated. Her own hands, clutching at the mattress, turn now to his own shirt. She throws it over his head, pulling and tugging as he follows her lead, although he aches just to touch her more. She knows this, and is oh-so willing to grant his request, but they will have time for foreplay later. Now, she needs this. Needs him; and he needs her and he damn knows it.

_I'll my wear heart out on my sleeve  
If it brings you close to me  
Help me leave the life I knew before you_

Beneath him, she has thrown away his shirt, and now travels downwards and works on the belt buckle she has grown to love. She touches it, unwittingly applying pressure in an area that makes him groan and lean forwards, stretching to worship her with his everything if only to receive his in return. She smiles coyly, enjoying how dark his eyes have become as his slacks pull free. Toeing them off along with his boxers - what does a yellow sponge have to do with undergarments? - he is left bare, and she finds it suddenly unfair. Of the same mindset, they simultaneously grasp her skirt, fingers intertwining as their mission is completed. As it falls with a soft swish to the hardwood floor, he focuses his attention on the scrap of black lace covering her most sacred area. He swallows, and his lips are dry, until she wets them for him, and suddenly he finds the courage to whisper along her skin until his hands can tug it away. She inhales, sharply, his fingers dancing across her skin in a way she finds incredibly intoxicating. She resists the urge to kick her last article off and hurry him along, instead allowing him the simple pleasure of unveiling her.

Her legs are smooth and inviting, a white milk that he enjoys tasting. Working his way back up with soft declarations against ankles and knees and thighs, she pulls atop his head, every second that prevents their joining a pure and lovely torture. He grins, obliging as he pushes himself completely above her, his head the only thing that drops, as it captures her reddened lips in a kiss that chases away any further peradventure. Breathing hotly upon his cheek, his hand touches where his lips are now absent, ghosting across her face before tucking sweaty strands behind her ear. There is no question in either of their eyes; no uncertainty. For them, this is no climax, no crescendo into something better. The knowledge has been there all along, and it feels as if this is not their first time, but their hundredth. Even so, tears of longing gather in her eyes, ones he kisses away as they travel down her cheeks, the water doing nothing to douse the fire she has ignited within him. His scent washes over her, and she simply breathes him in, both of them lying together in a temporary cease of any movement as they tremble in anticipation.

_Come inside, erase the shame  
Call me by different name  
I won't be the same anymore  
God, I trust you_

And before he can be indecisive any longer, he slides into her, a new title slipping through his lips as intense thrums course along his spine. "Temperance."

She closes her eyes, gasping as she adjusts, pulsing briefly around him. Her hands reach for his shoulders, solid above her as he begins to move. Her hips undulate as he strikes deeper, every melding of their skin a fresh, erotic shock. She has never continued to be so aroused, and he mirrors her feelings. Starting out slowly, with every pant and moan that comes from the pair, they come to understand one another - and everything is building, while they stay entranced. Even as time seems to slow and speed up all at once, they are a constant, and they move as one.

As one. Two beings cannot occupy the same space, she had once said, but she realizes now she has never been so wrong.

_God, I was so wrong  
To stay away so long  
Oh, how I need you!_

"Seeley," she whispers, and he can only grunt in response. It is past time for words now; all that is needed lies at the end of a road they are approaching at the speed of light. Which she knows is impossible, but after this, what wasn't possible?

Her back arches to meet him, and he dips in perfect tandem. Her nails wear notches into his skin, and he suckles marks into hers, all things they will only see later. Their friction increases with every second he dives and she soars. But they are ensnared not by what they do, but how. Their only intent, their only goal, is for the other's own happiness, an emotion they know will last far past the time bruises and scratches fade. It is a perfect generosity, one neither has felt before, and from now on always will. He is only seeing blue, and she brown, as they drown in each other's gazes and fall over an edge gladly leapt. Nobody screams or writhes, but it is finished with such quiet drama that as they surface from a haze of pleasure, they are left breathless in the moments as he draws away and comes to sprawl beside her.

For a moment, he is panicked - what if she runs? What if she -

But he doesn't get any farther in his thoughts, as it is she who pulls their glistening, exhausted selves together. Then her eyes, closed, flutter open, and immediately she finds them locked inside a world she'd been missing, and never wanted to leave. She won't run, and they both know it. This is after, but it is also a before...

And, well - this was, she decided, forever.


	3. Make It Right by Econoline Crush

No smut this time around - this is actually a piece I wrote with different characters for a contest, but I realized with some tweaking it would work for Bones, too. So here you go! :) Oh, and before I forget - there's a poll at the type of my profile. I'd greatly appreciate it if you voted on what songs I should use as inspiration for this fic. If you select, "Other" then please PM me any suggestions. Heck, PM me anyway! Who doesn't love a good chat? ;)

* * *

**SONG: **"Make It Right"  
**ARTIST: **"Econoline Crush"  
**RATING:** K+  
**PAIRING: **Slight hints of B/B  
**WORD COUNT: **1297

_put your headphones in and enjoy our next selection  
..._

_

* * *

_

_Someday we're gonna make it right  
Someday we're gonna win this fight  
Someday we're gonna make it right  
Someday we're gonna win this fight_

You hear their whispering - nettling voices saying words that cannot be deciphered in your distracted mind, but you're not listening. You register their hands upon you, sympathetic and radiating a comforting heat, but you're not feeling. You sense their eyes boring sad, helpless holes into your back, but you're not seeing.

Sort of like the one who lies before you. Your father.

He does none of those things. Doesn't listen, doesn't feel, doesn't see. But he's not trapped in this emotionless state you've wrapped yourself in. He's in something far worse. You let your numb mind wander to when you first heard the words:

"The surgery was a success. He should wake up in a couple of hours."

You remember inhaling what seemed like the sweetest breath of your life, struggling to be the man he'd told you to be; fighting not to let hot tears of relief fall down your face as you thanked the doctor and went to sit beside him in anxious suspense. You watched him breathing. He was so...peaceful. He lay with a smile gracing his chapped lips, wrinkled eyelids shuttering the rheumy eyes beneath. It seemed nothing could break this moment. If only it had been so. Slowly, your smile had faded as the sun sank deeper in the Virginian sky, and the medical professionals had poked and prodded and murmured and shook their heads before turning their apologetic eyes upon you - eyes filled with a sadness you would become all too familiar with in the coming months.

"The blood clot has spread farther than we thought - his liver is almost completely destroyed. I'm sorry, Mr. Booth, but I think you need to say goodbye.

_Broken are their little wings fallen from above  
What am I supposed to think  
I don't think I know enough  
Hurry don't be late today  
Not for what is lost  
Hurry don't delay a thing  
You've almost got a lot_

You remember inhaling the sharpest gasp you'd ever taken, the cold air pummeling the back of your throat at you stuttered and shouted and cried. And when you were drained of anything, everything, you sat bed-side and watched him breathe. You did that everyday. Again. And again. It seemed like the deja-vu of your nightmares. So familiar, but so, so different... Then one day he was breathing with machines, and even the mocking peace of unconsciousness vanished, along with all familiarity.

And so here you were one year later, surrounded by family and friends, yet feeling utterly, terribly alone. They came and went, too filled with despair to remain - because they knew what today was. Today was the day that he...that you would...

"Booth?"

The voice cuts through your consciousness like a knife, and you leap up, whirling around to face whoever disturbs you in this fragile place. Grey-blue eyes stare from sockets lined by rings of purple, but this visible fatigue was nothing compared to the strength in her eyes.

_Oooh I know you'll be comin' 'round  
With fire in your eyes  
__Yeah, we're gonna make it right  
Someday we're gonna win this fight  
And I don't know why it took me oh so long to get here  
Yeah, we're gonna make it right  
Someday we're gonna win this fight  
Yeah, and I don't know why it took me oh so long to get here_

"Hey, Bones" You don't recognize your own voice, and she winces when you speak, compassion flooding her features.

Yet she wastes no time in cutting to the chase. It's one of the reasons you love her so much, probably one of the reasons you're due to be married in three weeks. But now it just hurts when she says, "I know you're taking this hard. And, well, just know we're here for you."

You nod stupidly, your expression vacant as it returns to the prone figure enswathed by sweaty sheets. You hear her sigh, then sit down next to you. The warmth of her hand fills the spaces between your fingers, but you're still so cold. Nothing can beat back the frost icing your soul.

Finally, you say something, your throat aching with the pain of misuse. "I should've said something. I...I should've forced him to stop drinking. Should've..."

She interrupts you, and you're glad. Confession hurts. "Seeley, look at me. I mean, _look at me." _Unwillingly, you raise your tear-filled eyes, ashamed that she must see them. "It's not your fault," she whispers with all the kindness she hides inside that clinical frame. Her other hand strokes your face, cradling your head as a tear darts around her slender fingers. "I know you. You're a good man, and you loved your father, despite what he did to you. You'd never let something like this happen if you could prevent it, and you know it. These things...they can't be controlled." She shakes her head, as you stand and face the opposite side of the room, grinding your teeth together to keep from exploding. There's so much guilt, so much pain, and you don't know what to do. Keep it all inside, build up your walls, and hope no one sees - that was what you did before, when he beat you. Why doesn't it work now, though, when he's the one lying beaten on a hospital bed, finally drowning in his own crimes? You're unraveling at the seams, a heap of no-good nothing lying on the floor, disintegrating into puddles when everyone needs you most.

_Broken are the little strings  
They can't hold you up  
Waiting on your patron saint  
I don't think he'll be enough  
Hurry, don't be late today  
You know what you've done  
Hurry, don't delay a thing  
Look what you have won_

"I know it's not my fault," you say at last, voice gravelly from disuse. "But I can't help feeling this way. I just - I just need to make this right. And I don't know how. And now they're taking him off life support, and -" your voice breaks, and you turn to find her there, before you with that firm resolve shimmering through the wetness in her gaze.

"You know how to make this right."

The quiet words startle you. You swallow. Breathe. "D-d'you think...letting him go...would he still love me?" You feel small and foolish, but the question is branded on your mind.

"He loves you, Booth. He always has, even if it didn't always seem that way. And setting him free isn't going to change anything - but keeping him here, like this...would he really want to stay here for the rest of his life?"

"No," you whisper, and you break. You shatter into a million pieces of weakness, and just as you have given her comfort in the past, her svelte build shifts to encompass you in warmth and love - warmth you can finally feel. She's given you the truth, now you just have to take it.

Later, with a clear visage, you call in the doctor. By now everyone has left, and it's just you and the man in the gurney.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I wanted to save you - but...but this is the best I can do. Tell Mom, when you see her...tell her Temperance is so thankful for the dress - even though she goes on and on about it being a symbol of virginity and everything, but, well, that's Bones for you..." You trail off, shaking your head, then take a deep breath before you begin again, with the hardest words you'll ever say. "Oh, and - and Dad? I love you. Even after what you did to me...I love you. I don't think I ever said that enough. That wasn't right. And what you did wasn't right. But now, I hope everything's...right. You always told me to do what's best. You always told me." You press his cold hand to your forehead, closing your eyes.

By now, the machines have gone silent. Your lips are pressed together in a line to prevent them from trembling as his chest goes still under the thin hospital garments. And you silently stand to walk away, then turn. to see him smiling, even in death.

Something in you flutters with hope at the sight, and you realize that, finally, you did the right thing. Finally, he's in Heaven, where he should be. Even drunks deserved someplace like that. Your father deserved someplace like that... Though he would always remain in memory, his soul was...free.

And on the day you come to terms with everything, maybe you'll free yourself from the guilt that keeps you in chains.

Maybe that day is today.

_Oooh I know you'll be comin' 'round  
With fire in your eyes  
Yeah, we're gonna make it right  
Someday we're gonna win this fight  
And I don't know why it took me oh so long to get here  
Yeah, we're gonna make it right  
Someday we're gonna win this fight  
Yeah, and I don't know why it took me oh so long to get here  
Yeah, we're gonna make it right  
And I don't know why, and I don't know why, and I don't know why  
Yeah, we'll make it right  
Yeah, and I don't know why it took me oh so long to get here  
_


	4. Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman

_Ahh, I just realized that almost all my songfics are B/B centric. Next one will probably have something to do with Cam, so heads up on that! Also, there's a poll on my page asking what songs you think I should use. Vote on it, or send me a PM with a title, or both! I'm a chatterbox, so talk it up, reviewers ;D _

* * *

**SONG: **"Cinderella"  
**ARTIST: **Steven Curtis Chapman  
**RATING: **K+ (for slight language)  
**PARING: **B/B (i guess)  
**WORD COUNT: **3016

_put your headphones in and enjoy our next selection  
__..._

* * *

_She spins and she sways  
__To whatever song plays  
Without a care in the world  
And I'm sitting here wearing  
The weight of the world on my shoulders_

I stepped through the doorway, whirling angrily through the foyer and into the kitchen. Setting down my keys with a hard thump upon the countertop, I walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer, hoping maybe it would take the edge off a frustrating case. Yet as I grabbed for it, the cold surface stung my fingers. I cursed under my breath at the unexpected shock, a frustrated sigh escaping immediately afterwards. It hadn't exactly been the best of work days, and my bad luck seemed to be continuing into my home life. Annoyed, I slammed the door, and my footsteps traveled into the living room. Maybe if I sat down for a while, all the stupid details of the case would come together into something that made _sense_.

Of course, no sooner had I crossed the threshold that my feet found the surface of Barbie's tiara - or something like that. I doubled over, clutching my foot, and growled in annoyance. "Hey, Faith? Could you _please _come put your toys away?"

A soft rumbling of footsteps signaled the approach of the little girl who was soon looking up at me apologetically with crystalline blue eyes. "Sorry, Daddy. Did you hurt your foot?"

Even after such an awful day, I couldn't be mad at the sound of that angelic little voice, and the simple presence of my daughter was enough to brighten even the gloomiest of days. And, well, I was a sucker when she gave me _the look. _"Aw, it's okay sweetheart. I'm alright."

"Mommy kisses my boo-boos." Her seriousness was all that of her mother's, and I chuckled as I swung her up and placed a kiss on her head before setting her down again amidst a chorus of giggles.

"Well, maybe she'll kiss mine later. Where is mommy?"

"Right here."

I looked up to hear her voice, a smile breaking out on my face. "Hey, mommy."

"I'm not _your_ mother, Booth." She gazed at me sideways, frown lines crossing her forehead. I could tell she was trying to discern me, studying me like she might a piece of evidence. "You look...ill. Are you feeling well?"

My fragile moment of pleasure started to quickly fade, and I gave another sigh. "Ehh, tough case. You're lucky to have missed it. You wanna help with some of the details?"

She snorted. "You think this is lucky?" she asked, gesturing towards her swollen abdomen. Waddling over to the couch, she sat down gently, casting a wistful look over her shoulder. "Actually, I would very much like to be working on a case right now."

At her nod, I went to sit beside her, our daughter glancing up only briefly from her side of the room. Apparently she had decided to forgo putting the toys away in favor of playing with them. Her little frame was bent over a costume box, pulling many articles from the small chest as she mumbled to herself, completely absorbed in some imaginary game. We both gazed at her a moment, and then I looked back at my partner. My wife. God, I was never getting used to that. "You know," I began, placing a hand on her stomach, feeling for the life inside her, "I think this _is_ lucky."

For once, she didn't debate the existence of luck, or counter my observation with some scientific speech of her own; instead she leaned over and rested her forehead against my shoulder, auburn locks spilling across my chest. "Let's just work on the case, Booth."

I frowned; it wasn't like her. The pregnancy was definitely taking its toll. A surge of anger was re-awakened, and smoldered inside - it had been an argument between us. I wanted to stay home more often, to, you know, help her, and she insisted I remain loyal to my job. And here my job was, kicking me in the ass. Without Bones, work was work, and it sure wasn't worth it anymore. Why did people murder others anyway? And why did they have to be so complicated? Who, in their right mind, would -

"Daddy?"

I startled, my thoughts immediately cutting off as I looked down to where my daughter currently stood before me, crown askew and princess dress on backwards. "Yeah, baby girl?"

_It's been a long day and there's still work to do  
She's pulling at me, s__aying "Dad, I need you  
There's a ball at the castle and I've been invited  
And I need to practice my dancing  
Oh, please,  
Daddy, please?"_

Her request stunned me for a moment, and I found I couldn't breathe. Just the way she was looking at me; the way I suddenly realized that this was my daughter, asking me such a simple request - it all slammed into me as if I'd hit the ground after leaping from a cliff.

I remembered the moment Faith was born: how her mother had been gripping my fingers as if I was the only stability in her life all throughout the birth. How she grasped them even harder as our daughter was placed in her arms. How my fingers were practically white as she pulled me to her and whispered words I'd only dreamed of. "Marry me."

I remembered all my baby's birthdays: her first, as she wobbled around with cake on her face and an anxious mother trailing behind her. Her second, as she exclaimed with joy over her gifts and talked up a storm for days afterward about much she loved birthdays. Her third; her fourth; her fifth - all occasions in which I'd wanted desperately to stop her from growing, and simultaneously marveled at the wonder that she was becoming, and had always been.

I remembered every moment of her life, how suddenly it all culminated to us, right here, right now; and it just gave me a glimpse of how fleeting everything had been, and the future would be.

And even with the work looming on my horizon, I couldn't deny her. I smiled softly and stood, picking her up and setting her down again on my toes. Her weight was but a feather against me, and her fingers were miniscule as they curled around my palm. So, so small... She looked up at me and giggled happily, the sound an adorable chorus in my ears as I slowly began rocking us side to side, both of us caught amongst music only we could hear. And everything faded away into that music, into something I never wanted to end. Into the miracle that was my daughter, dancing with me.

_So I will dance with Cinderella  
While she is here in my arms  
'Cause I know something the prince never knew  
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella  
I don't want to miss even one song  
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight  
And she'll be gone..._

**10 years later...**

_She says he's a nice guy and I'd be impressed  
She wants to know if I approve of the dress  
She says, "Dad, the prom is just one week away  
And I need to practice my dancing  
Oh, please,  
Daddy, please?"_

She sat in front of us, fifteen years of beautiful gazing at her parents. I could envision everything she was thinking behind her pleading facade - _oh my God, are they going to let me go? I need to text Chrissy, oh! and see what she's wearing. Ew, I didn't realize that Dad hasn't shaved in a while _- while at the same time, focusing only on her appearance. My daughter was beautiful, and I wasn't biased or anything. But that's just it - she was my _daughter. _And here she was before me, looking all innocent as she calmly and rationally - just like her mother, eh? - explained her plans for...

...Prom Night.

Otherwise known as, _every father's worst nightmare_.

"Booth, can I...talk to you in the hallway?" I heard a voice asking, as my wife sharply tugged me up and ushered me out of the room. "Faith? Go try on your dress while we have a little...tête-à-tête."

Closing the door to our daughter's bedroom, she rounded on me, hands crossed, expression hard. I knew immediately what that look meant, and prepared for a whispered argument. Well, more like a bickering match. Or something like that.

"Before you say anything, Bones, I just want to let you know...no one says, 'tête-à-tête' anymore."

She glowered at me, lips pursed in a look I was all too familiar with. "Stop trying to take us off road, Booth."

"Track."

Per usual, she ignored me and continued her rant. "Prom is a coming of age ritual, one she needs to experience. It will signify to the community that she is no longer a girl, but a woman - and Booth, I'm sorry to inform you of this, but that's what she is."

"That does not make me feel better!" I hissed, my own hands coming to rest on my hips, just as the door swung open. Already nose to nose, we swiveled in perfect synchronization, and I almost wished I hadn't turned to look.

For as soon as my eyes met hers, I knew I was lost.

Bones had said it was a defense mechanism, for the offspring to look like their father. So they would not be abandoned in the early stages of their lives. Yet from the moment she lay in my arms, I knew she was my wife's child. Everything about her was pure _Bones, _and it only made me love her more - the rational, crisp voice of a young, literal girl; the shimmering gaze of an indefinable blue; just, everything. But here, standing before me, was a human who was no longer anyone's child, but someone entirely her own. I wondered when _that_ had happened.

"Daddy?"

Well, some things never changed.

I swallowed, searching for the words to explain what I was feeling. But, as daughters always seem to do, she saved me.

"Do you like my dress?"

Of course I do. What else can I say to that? My daughter could be dressed in sackcloth and, besides the gorgeous, intelligent woman who'd captured my heart, she'd be the most beautiful thing in the world. "Yeah, sweetheart. It's...nice. Very nice. You really are my little princess." I attempted a cheeky grin through the chokehold of emotion.

Playfully, she tilted her head, and I caught a glimpse of the little, mischievous girl who'd been swept away by the waves of time. Her smile sparkled almost as vibrantly as her eyes as she pulled Temperance and me into the room, letting go of her hands only to flip on her stereo. Turning back, she gave a mocking little curtsy. "Well, how about you help this princess with her dancing then?"

A sudden memory of about ten years ago startled me as it surged out of forgotten places and hit me full force; of when Faith had been anything but what she was now. When little hands had been devoid of polish, and little feet wore beat-up sneakers instead of high heels. And though every father probably goes through the same thing at this time in his daughter's life, the feeling of loss was acute and singular, and I knew I would do anything to hang onto who she had been, and now, who she was.

So I was only too happy to oblige.

_So I will dance with Cinderella  
While she is here in my arms  
'Cause I know something the prince never knew  
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella  
I don't want to miss even one song  
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight  
And she'll be gone..._

**10 years later...**

_Well, she came home today with a ring on her hand  
Just glowing and telling us all they had planned  
She says, "Dad, the wedding's still six months away  
But I need to practice my dancing  
Oh, please,  
Daddy, please?"_

I could never get used to the silence of the house. With Jonathan finally in college, and Faith and Parker at their own places, it was as if ghosts had taken up residence in the apartment. The eerie quiet sent me tip-toeing through the house as I came home from work, and I kept listening for low, throbbing bass notes coming from under my son's door, or giggles and prattle from within my daughter's. They never came, though, as had been the case for the past weeks - or, if I was being honest with myself, months. It would take a lot, something big, to come to terms with the fact that I was alone.

"Booth?"

I smiled at the sudden query, one that seemed to leap from the stillness of our home. _Well, not quite alone._

"Yeah, Bones?" I picked up the pace, walking until I reached the living room where she was currently dusting the ceiling fan while perched precariously on a step-stool. I halted, brow furrowed. "What the hell are you doing?" I could never once pinpoint a time where she'd felt the need to be cleaning obsessively when I came home. That was our time, baby.

She didn't cease in her task, instead choosing to direct her words at me as she whisked her arm back and forth across the fan. "Faith is stopping by; she said she had some important news. I don't remember ever hearing her sound so enthusiastic. I thought I would tidy up our home, since she doesn't come home all that often."

"Oh." Hearing the wistful tone in her voice, I softened, while at the same time inflating with happiness at the thought of my little girl - well, not so little anymore - coming back. "Anything I can do to help?" I set down the take-out I'd brought home, thinking maybe we'd do something a little more classy. Of course, on such short notice...

Almost as if the action had been wired to my thoughts, a knock at the door startled us both.

"Well, you could get the door," Brennan (who had elected to keep her name the many years ago we'd gotten married) stated matter-of-factly, and I did as asked.

"Hey, sweetheart!" I practically crowed, showing her in and landing a kiss on the top of her head.

She threw her arms around me, saying hello simultaneously, and we strolled into the living room. Immediately, we were enveloped by another set of arms. So rare was the smile I saw on Temperance's face I wanted to photograph the moment.

Of course, it had nothing on her next expression.

"Okay, I can't wait any longer to tell you," Faith spoke, breathing heavily with excitement. "Mom, Dad... Andy and I are getting married!" Proudly, but with trembling fingers, she shoved out her hand and gave us our first glimpse of the engagement ring.

I wonder how long I stared at it, as Bones' jaw flew open and emulated my own feelings. It really was gorgeous; swirling shades of blue in a hard stone that attempted to match the glorious hues in the eyes of my two favorite women.

Eventually I swallowed, finally cognizant of the fact that Faith was waiting desperately for our reactions.

In a completely, un-Bones-like moment, my wife squealed and wrapped her arms so tightly around our daughter I was sure she would explode.

"Oh, honey, I... this is... I'm so happy for you!" she said honestly, tears already gathering in her eyes.

"I know, Mom. I am too. I mean, we've been dating two years, so it shouldn't be a surprise, but..." she couldn't finish her sentence, and finally, she was forced to turn to me. _Faith_ - Bones had never believed in it until the day it saw us through the birth of our first child, and it had only seemed fitting we call afore-mentioned baby the same, as a testament to everything we'd been through, and everything we go through. This, now, was a test of my faith in Faith. I saw within her gaze all the things that she wanted, all that she hoped I would say. Approval, success, were what she wanted - just like her mother - and I couldn't disappoint her, because she'd never disappointed me.

"Andy, huh?" I said, and a grin broke out on her face, and I knew she knew that it was my way of saying well done.

We all made our way to the couch, Faith effusing her joy as she trailed on and on about everything and nothing, us parents content to listen in wonder.

As the night wore on, the talking lessened. But the last thing she said struck me the most. It was nearly midnight, and our eyelids, the old fogies we were, had been starting to droop. We had been discussing the wedding, and our thoughts turned to the reception afterwards.

"You know, I've never been good at dancing. And Andy is very good..."

Bones yawned. "That's my fault. I'm afraid you inherited an uneven iliac crest."

I was seized by a sudden urge. All this talk of weddings, and new homes and new lives, simply made me realize how wonderful the old life had been. And although maybe Faith was beginning again, there were some things that could carry over from old to new, right?

I stood up, then turned and offered my hand to my bewildered daughter, who laughed and stood upon hearing my words.

"Well, practice does make perfect you know..."

_So I will dance with Cinderella  
While she is here in my arms  
'Cause I know something the prince never knew  
Oh, I will dance with Cinderella  
I don't want to miss even one song  
'Cause all too soon the clock will strike midnight..._

**6 months later...**

_And she'll be gone..._

I placed a kiss on her head, reveling in the softness of her hair as she pulled away, her white dress glimmering around her as the person in it shimmered with happiness, the happiness one can only experience on their wedding day.

"Daddy?" she whispered, and I was certain I was the only one who heard her in the crowded hall of wedding-goers.

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

She hesitated, then slipped her arms around me again, and I knew none of us had the words to say what we should. I never wanted to let her go, because once I did, I knew it would all be over. But as she at last slipped away, my fingers falling around empty air, instead of crying I found myself... smiling. Smiling at the fact that we had these memories, and they were things that would never go away - especially when there were plenty of new ones to be made. We both shared something special, sacred, and no one would be able to take that away from us. A new hand took up the spaces where her fingers had been, and I looked into my wife's face, the both of us sharing a glance filled with meaning.

"What happened to marriage being an antiquated ritual?" I joked softly, my arm falling across her shoulder.

"I met you," she whispered, her words accompanied by a gentle kiss to my cheek.

"And all that other stuff? Babies, living together, the whole shebang?"

"Yeah, that was all... that was very nice, too." We looked around at everything, at everyone, reveling in the beauty of renewal and gladness reverberating around the hall. At this... beginning, one that seemed more a continuation of something wonderful than a whole new start.

"It _is_," I said quietly, and I found my daughter across the hall, and again our gazes met in a shared smile. "Yes, yes it is."

* * *

_Aww, sweetness! Yes; if B/B EVER have a baby, I really think they should name her Faith - just, because you know, Brennan doesn't believe in it and never wanted children and then OH BAM! she wants a kid, so, duh, now she believes in Faith. xD It only seems right, right? What's not right is that after I discovered this song and wrote this fic, I found another one by Mark Schultz that is equally cute, entitled, "She Was Watching." Check it out, too. :) Anyway, please review! I have no idea what you, the visitors, think of these pieces if you don't, so I might just...stop writing them... ;)_


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